I love good grass!

I don't cut the grass. I mow the lawn.

There is something special that wells up inside me when I'm mowing the lawn. I can never really quite put my finger on it. But it's a oneness of sorts. I love being outside. I love making tall grass short. I am nothing short of Botticelli when it comes to using my edger. (I looked at the neighbor totally crazy when he asked to borrow my "weed whacker". Heavens Sake!!)

I get my good lawn habits from my dad. (I love that man! More about him another day.) But basically it is a since of pride. I don't understand people who pay 100+ thousands of dollars for a house and their lawn looks like crap. Even if you only paid 100 dollars for it, it's your little piece of the rock. Neither I or my family got our 40 acres and a mule. So now that I've got my own house and my own grass every body who passes by will know there lives a man who cares: about grass but more importantly about history and how others paved a way for him to have his very own good grass.